"Aunt... Aunt, are you okay? Did they hurt you? What did they do to you?" Ryley's voice quivered with concern, his heart racing as he hastened to place the tray on the coffee table before rushing to Medea's side.
His words spilled out in a flurry of worry and urgency, each question a testament to his deep concern for her well-being.
His eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign of distress or harm inflicted upon her.
Caught within the storm of Ryley's panicked look, Medea's serene countenance softened into a faint smile.
With a reassuring touch, she clasped Ryley's trembling hand, guiding him toward the plush sofa nestled by the crackling fireplace.
Like a gentle breeze weaving through the room, Medea's voice reached out to Ryley, her hand tenderly cradling his cheek.
The faint timbre of her words held both warmth and a tinge of melancholy.
